The Evil in the Pages
by Story Please
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is not a nice person. Self-serving and ambitious, he was once a Death Eater before everything went tits-up. When Aurors go through his home, it seems like he just can't catch a break. But the discovery of a mysterious diary and its addictive effects may lead Lucius down an even darker path than before. Will he be able to break free in time to protect his family?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Machinations at Malfoy Manor**

It all started with a book.

No.

It was _more_ than a mere book.

Had Lucius Malfoy known what was contained between those pages, he would have thrown it into a vat of basilisk's blood (which he actually did have on hand in the sub-basement as it worked wonders as a pesticide).

And, to be fair, it had _actually_ started with that damnable headmaster of Hogwarts going on and on about Voldemort returning.

Lucius knew this was ludicrous. His Mark had been both faded and inert for years. In his opinion, Albus Dumbledore probably thought that the bunion on his big toe was Voldemort come to doom them all. But then the _Prophet_ had made a huge stink about it, even going so far as to do an exposé on what most of Voldemort's Death Eaters were doing these days.

 _Mostly dead. Or insane. Or a bit of both. And then there's me...and Severus, of course, but I know there's something he's not telling me about the reason he stays on at that horrid school year after year when he obviously hates teaching even more than he hated being a student..._

Lucius hadn't seen what Voldemort had done to Bellatrix, but everyone was familiar with what she had become afterwards. Lucius remembered it so clearly it might have only been a week ago. She'd gone from being a calm, collected Daughter of the Noble House of Black to a deranged, Voldemort-obsessed nutcase. The Dark Lord had merely looked disappointed.

"The spell didn't work the way I had hoped," he'd said flippantly, "But I suppose what remains will still be useful."

And with that, he'd waved Lucius over and commanded him to take what was left of his sister-in-law back to his wife to be "managed."

It had been hell. Even with Severus coming to help during the summer. Azkaban had almost been a blessing, though Lucius knew that Narcissa still cried on her sister's birthday, remembering the sister she'd lost to madness. And through it all, the Dark Lord hadn't done much more than shrug when Bella had gotten up to some insanity or other. in fact, he'd often used her as a shining example of proper Death Eater behavior- torture and death first, talking later. Innocents were explained away as "collateral damage." Lucius had been disturbed, but knew that if he spoke up, he and his family would find themselves as the next bout of "collateral damage." Something had changed about the Dark Lord, Lucius could feel it. He'd gone on an "excursion" and come back a different man...what Lucius had thought of as somehow _less_ of a man than there had been before. That had been the turning point. Things had gone downhill from there.

The mere thought that the madman might actually return made Lucius sick to his stomach.

And then the Aurors had to go and make a show of themselves when the public went into a frenzy of fear that was really all the _Daily Prophet_ 's fault. Lucius made a mental note to schedule a tea with Marvin Skeeter, Rita Skeeter's father and one of the owners of the Prophet. It wouldn't do for anyone to see those compromising pictures of their most popular staff writer in a compromising position with the owner and operator of the Quibbler, one Xenophilius Lovegood. It may have happened only once, but once was enough.

His cheeks reddened with chagrin when he thought of those bumbling oafs stomping around in his home. They'd even knocked over one of his bookcases and now there were dusty tomes of many shapes and sizes strewn all over his study.

The only reason he was putting them away and hadn't ordered Dobby to do it or use his wand was because many of the books were magical in and of themselves. Some were Dark, but had been obtained legally and were allowed by the Ministry as "history books for collectors." Also, Dobby had a penchant to begin reading aloud from books whenever one was in his hands. As his personal valet from infancy, Dobby thought that all books were bedtime stories for Master Lucius.

He chuckled darkly to himself imagining the nightmares that the meddlesome elf would cause instead.

The little creature was humming tunelessly to himself as he dusted the room behind his master. There were plenty of things that would need to be cleaned and straightened now that Malfoy Manor had finally been left in peace by those clumsy fools who apparently had nothing better to do than ruin his day. He glared at the fat book on Bone Curses that he was hefting back onto the shelf, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

The whole thing stunk of Arthur Weasley. They'd never liked each other in school and they didn't like each other now. Arthur had been immensely chagrined when Lucius had danced with a much thinner, pre-broodmare Molly Prewitt at his parent's Solstice Ball and stole a kiss from her out of spite more than anything. After all, he'd been formally engaged to Narcissa since she was two years old.

Weasley had always been jealous. After all, there was so much to be jealous of, as far as Lucius was concerned. While he wasn't exactly the most handsome man in the world, Lucius Malfoy made up for it in poise, polite practiced mannerisms and the hauntingly smooth baritone of his voice. He wore expensive, immaculately tailored robes. His hair was always perfectly slicked back without a blond strand out of place and it amused him to no end how much his young son worked to emulate his father's sense of style and appearance in this area especially. But Lucius Malfoy was most proud of his curious gray eyes, which were always partially narrowed as though daring anyone to say something stupid and live to tell the tale.

In short, he was the perfect wizard gentleman.

Who was now on his hands and knees like a commoner, covered in dust and cobwebs because of Arthur bloody Weasley.

Lucius cursed as he bumped his left kneecap on the base of the bookcase and braced himself with his right hand as he rubbed the painful spot where he was sure would soon be a bruise.

It was then that his fingers brushed against the soft leather jacket of a small book and he nearly moaned with pleasure as his arm began to throb with a nearly sexual sensation.

His eyes widened and he forgot all about his battered knee, pulling reluctantly away from the source of his pleasure. Twisting around, he finally sat with his legs crossed, he bent down and poked the book with his left forefinger.

Nothing.

He tried poking it with his right and the pleasure shot up his arm like a drug and he could feel his eyes going glassy with hazy enjoyment.

 _You should start writing in this diary._

The thought popped into his head and even though Lucius had never put much stock in writing down a list of one's daily movements, it suddenly seemed like a downright genius thing to do. Somewhere in the back of his head, Lucius felt a tingle of doubt, but a fresh wave of pleasure coursed through his arm like electricity and his resolve weakened once more.

"Dobby!" he shouted, "Bring me my Self-Inking quill!"

"Yes Master!" Dobby squeaked, "Dobby is so happy to serve his master! Dobby will get the pen now!"

Lucius grabbed the quill abruptly from the House Elf and brought the nib to the paper.

He wrote the date, frowning when the ink disappeared.

"You didn't fill this with Trick Ink from Draco's joke box, did you?!" He snarled at Dobby, who quaked under his glaring face.

"N-no sir!" Dobby replied, wringing his ears, "Dobby made sure, he did, for Master's happiness is Dobby's, sir! Dobby will punish himself if it pleases! Ohhhh! Bad Dobby! Bad! Bad!"

The distraught House Elf began to slam his fingers in the desk drawer repeatedly while shouting self-deprecating things at himself. Lucius scowled and tried to ignore the cacophony. It wasn't his problem, after all. If Dobby wanted to punish himself, so be it.

He pressed the tip of the quill and tried again.

 _Lucius Malfoy_ , he wrote.

 _Hello Lucius. Are you related to Abraxas?_

His eyes widened as the words appeared on the page. What the devil _was_ this thing?

 _Who are you?_ he wrote, his fingers quivering slightly.

 _My name is Tom. I feel stronger when you touch my pages. Why do you feel...familiar? Come to me._ replied the words on the page.

Lucius felt himself shudder as the pleasure in his hand intensified and he felt himself falling into the book with a whimper that he would have never admitted to anyone that any respectable Malfoy was capable of making.

The pages of the book flew shut with a pop and the room was silent once more.

"Master?" Dobby called from behind the desk, the tips of his bat-like ears poking out over the top of the desk inquisitively.

But when he came around the side of the desk, rubbing his sore fingers, his master had disappeared. Dobby had been told not to touch the books, nor to speak to any of those around him of any important information that pertained to the Malfoy family, so he decided that it was best to go back to his previous duties. Whistling tunelessly, Dobby continued to dust the drapes and windowpanes in the office and hoped that once his master returned the room would be to his liking.

He did not notice the muffled noises coming from the small, red-leather bound book on the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: The Heir of Slytherin**

Lucius landed with an unceremonious thump on his arse. Rubbing his sore bottom, he chanced a look around the dim, stone hallway. With a sudden stab of nostalgia, he knew exactly where he was.

"The hidden door to the Slytherin Common Room?!" he exclaimed with a perplexed expression, "But that's impossible!"

His hand went for his wand, but it seemed to be missing. He cursed when he remembered that he'd purposefully left it at the doorway to his study to prevent from accidentally bumping it against one of his more... _touchy_ tomes.

He stared at the wall, racking his brains for the password when he realized that he didn't need it after all.

"I am Lucius Malfoy," he informed the wall in his most authoritative voice, "You will either let me in or you will suffer for your impudence."

The wall did nothing for a very long moment, and Lucius began to feel profoundly stupid for trying to reason with an inanimate piece of stonework, when suddenly, the bricks began to move aside and a narrow passage appeared for him to enter.

Lucius was beside himself with pride at having bullied his way past the wall for the first time in over twenty years, but he did his best to remain composed and guarded. There was an acidic scent in the air that belied a very strong magical signature. It reminded him that all was not what it seemed.

"I know you're in here," he said, trying to ignore the fact that the energy coursing over his skin felt oddly familiar.

"Come in, come in, said the spider to the fly," came the silky reply from within, and Lucius suppressed a shudder.

Whoever was inside had a voice that made him want to _obey_ like a dog, and this troubled him more than words could say.

Entering the Slytherin Common Room with its muted lighting was like coming home, even after more than a decade of having attended school. Lucius squinted to let his eyes focus better in the low lighting. A figure was seated on one of the green velvet couches closest to the roaring fireplace, though he could not see any definite features. He approached the figure and sat opposite in a leather wingback chair, sitting back against the soft leather in an assertive manner. The young man across from him, for it _was_ a young man, was wearing school robes and had a refined way about himself that made Lucius feel somewhat envious. The unknown wizard had dark hair and handsome, youthful features, which only increased the curiosity that Lucius felt, coupled with a deep discomfort and a profound feeling of deja vu that nagged at him incessantly.

"You're one of mine, aren't you?" the young man said, an almost feral smile spreading, knife-like up one side of his face.

"I- I don't know what you're talking about," Lucius replied, feeling suddenly flustered as his face went a deep shade of crimson.

"You're older than I am," the wizard replied, seemingly more to himself than anything. He extended his hand to shake, "Hello, my name is Riddle. Tom Riddle. I am very pleased indeed to make your acquaintance, Lucius Malfoy."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Lucius replied, trying to meet Tom's dark eyes and faltering at the last moment.

He took Tom's hand and shook it, marveling at the jolt of pleasure that shot up his right arm when their palms pressed together. In a moment, Lucius had leaned forward so far in his chair that he'd nearly fallen out of it, a glazed look spreading across his face as he basked in the unbearable pleasure of Tom's touch.

"I've done well," Tom said softly, using his left index finger to trace the shape of the Dark Mark, which had begun to darken and grow clearer by the second. The snake began to move lazily back and forth through the eye socket of the skull as though waking from a deep sleep.

Lucius moaned audibly as Tom's fingers stroked the Mark until it moved under his skin as though it were alive. His grey eyes had gone half-lidded with the pleasure. Tom smirked at how easily such a proud, obviously powerful man from a Pure-blooded family could be reduced to a slathering servant. Of course, the Mark helped. It responded to his magical signature, so it wasn't as though it was difficult for Tom to reestablish the link. Still, without his wand, Tom was limited in what he could do, and all of those years (at least, he thought it had been years if Abraxas already had a child or grandchild). Tom was not certain which one Lucius was, but that could be solved quite simply as well.

"Look into my eyes, Lucius," he commanded, his young voice thrumming with power.

Lucius raised his head and his eyes went wide as he looked into the dark eyes of the wizard before him. It was then that the remaining part of his mind that still retained some semblance of conscious thought finally realized exactly _who_ he was dealing with, only….it was impossible... _wasn't_ it?

"Master?" he whimpered softly.

Tom grinned and his face seeming to flicker, revealing something unspeakably inhuman in the firelight.

"Call me _Lord_ ," he replied, pulling the Mark to his lips and running his tongue over it, tasting the rivulets of power that oozed slowly from it, "Lord Voldemort."

"Yes….yes…." Lucius replied dazedly, "Yes, my Lord. For you, _anything_."

"Then, my servant," Voldemort replied, "I shall start with your memories. I need to see exactly what I have missed while I have been sleeping."

Lucius was powerless as his mind opened wide at the Dark Lord's command.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: For this story, I will be subscribing to the percentage theory of Horcruxes. For example, when you split your soul once, HALF of it goes into the Horcrux you've created. So Book Tom is 50% of Voldemort's soul (not 1/7). As the original Voldemort began to split more and more of his soul, he carved off fractions of each (the second Horcrux, for example, would only have 25% of his soul and so on and so forth), which is why the Diary was so much stronger than the other Horcruxes (though they too had their effects). So for the purposes of this story, realize that the eventual Voldemort who was "vanquished" at the end of the First Wizarding War was significantly weakened and warped because of it.

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Servitude**

When Lucius finally opened his eyes, he was no longer on the floor of the Slytherin Common Room and his Master was nowhere to be seen.

 _We have a link now, Lucius. I shall speak with you in this manner from now on._

Lucius groaned and looked around for the source of the voice but found none.

 _I am afraid that in my enthusiasm to learn about all that I have missed, I may have overdone it. If I have caused you any pain, I truly regret doing so._

The whispery voice did not sound sorry. In fact, its high, cold inflections sounded almost rueful that Lucius had not experienced more pain.

"Master…" he whimpered quietly.

"Is Master Lucius all right?" Dobby's large, batlike ears and bulging eyes appeared over him. He was holding Tom's diary.

"Give me _that_!" Lucius tried to regain his composure, narrowing his eyes and quickly grabbing the leather diary from the House Elf's bony fingers.

"Is Sir angry?" Dobby squeaked, his eyes growing huge with tears, "Dobby will punish himself! Bad Dobby! Bad! Bad!"

He began to ram into the closest wall and pick himself back up only to do so again and again. Lucius rolled his eyes.

"That is _quite_ enough!" he said angrily, "Instead of ruining my walls, you can make yourself useful in the kitchen and help prepare our evening meal!"

"As Master commands!" Dobby replied wringing his hands and disappearing with a small pop.

 _Good. Now, where were we?_

"I am sorry, Master. Had I known you were here…" Lucius trailed off and hoped that he hadn't betrayed his thoughts to the young version of Voldemort that had awakened and was now apparently tied to him through his Mark.

 _I saw the cushy life you've built for yourself, Lucius. Very Slytherin. Very convenient. Do remember that I've just walked through your memories. I saw the other me...the reduced version of me. That...thing...I am more than he was. And I am far better suited to following through with my ambitions for the Wizarding World than he ever could._

"How shall I serve you, my Lord?" Lucius said, still feeling somewhat stupid for talking to thin air.

 _What I require….is a body. Not yours, of course. You are Marked, which links us but makes you a poor vessel for my soul. What I need is a body that is young, unblemished…_

Lucius did not like where this conversation was going, but held his tongue.

 _Like your son. Draco, was it?_

"No!" Lucius cried out, throwing the book at the wall as hard as he could. The book let out a horrible scream as it slammed against the stone.

 _Interesting...I didn't realize that I could feel pain if my current vessel was harmed. Oh, by the way, before you get any ideas, this book is both flame-proof and waterproof. I've also added wards to make sure that anyone who tries to tamper with it will suffer a horrible, slow end. Now, come and pick me up. We have work to do._

"No!" Lucius cried out again, "Not until you give me your word that you will not harm my family. I may be a heartless bastard when it comes to most things in my life, but I will not allow you to hurt them. My wife never took the Mark- she was too young and you...well...the Other You...was uninterested in witches as a part of your army. And Draco….he is my son, and more precious to me than myself. I would give anything, even my life if needed, for his safety."

 _Witches make terrible soldiers. It makes sense if you just think logically about it. Females are more likely to betray a movement because they think pragmatically about the here and now instead of looking towards the bright and glorious future to come after the pain and strife of war. The fact that you have only one son is a disappointment. Perhaps if you had better prepared and sired another, you would be willing to offer up one to my glory. No matter. We are connected, Lucius, which means that not only can I give you pleasure, but I can give you the worst pain you've ever felt, five thousand times worse than a round of the Cruciatus Curse._

"I will not budge, Master. You may end my life or make me suffer as you have promised, but I shall not yield in this."

There was silence. Tom seemed to be thinking, and though Lucius could feel the sweat beading across his forehead, he stood firm. He would die for them, of this he was certain. He would do most anything to avoid the pain before his last breath, but he took comfort in the fact that regardless of whether Tom called his bluff, there were few other Death Eaters who would be able to help him, which considerably increased his odds of survival.

 _I have considered your words, and believe them to be true. Your father was the same sentimental way about family, so I have no reason to believe that you feel any differently about your own. You look so much like an older version of him, though I knew you were not the same when I touched your mind. Your stance is helped by the fact that the chances of finding another of my Marked followers to assist me is quite low indeed. I shall, therefore, accept your terms, Lucius Malfoy. I give you my word that your wife and child shall not be harmed as long as you help me find the body I need. You will not need to do much. You merely need to find me a young host who has a strong magical signature. Male is preferable, but female will work if she's strong enough. One of the Pure-blooded blood traitor families would probably work best...yes…and I shall teach you the detection spell. I used it to make this vessel, after all._

"Yes, but my Lord, where shall I begin to look?" Lucius replied, trying to appear more oblivious than he actually was. The gears were turning in his mind and he was beginning to think of what he might do to rid himself of this burden and make it someone else's problem. The trouble with this was the fact that he wanted not to make appear like he was doing so, lest it come back to bite him in the arse _again_.

 _This is why I am the Master and you are but a servant. Must I spell it out letter by letter? From my foray into your mind, I know that the school year will be starting within the next couple of weeks. Don't you go to Diagon Alley to purchase supplies for your child?_

"Well, normally, Narcissa-" Lucius began, before he was interrupted by a loud hissing whisper.

 _NO! It is YOU who must go so that I may approve of your choice!_

Lucius narrowed his eyes until they were practically slits.

"As you wish, my Lord," he said stiffly.

 _You shall take me with you. I have many things I shall have to impart upon you before we leave. And you still have so much to tell me about this brave, new world._

Lucius nodded curtly and picked up the book, which felt warm like a living thing. Suppressing a shudder, he tucked it into his robes where it lay against his side, its cover thrumming with energy and strode out of his study with a stomach filled with nausea and dread.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** **Sorry for letting this story go for awhile, but I've been somewhat busy with the QLFC and writing my vampire story (muahahaha). Anyway, I never intended for this story to be super long, so without further ado, I present the final chapter! Please do let me know what you think!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Bedknobs, Broomsticks and Books**

Lucius lay back against the couch in his study grasping the diary in his hands, his face contorting as he writhed in the throes of bliss. The Dark Lord was showing him just what he stood to gain. And that was apparently a pleasure that made even the throb of orgasm pale in comparison.

 _You are mine, mine, mine._

"Lucius?"

He nearly leapt from the couch, stuffing the diary between the back of the couch and his robes with a guilty expression.

"What _exactly_ are you doing in here?" Narcissa's voice was puzzled and she crossed her arms as she stared down her nose at him.

He couldn't exactly blame her for her suspiciousness. She'd found his moving nudie witch book a few months before and burned them to ashes in front of him in retaliation. It had been upsetting, as it had cost a fair number of Galleons to procure. He had been eminently glad that he hadn't purchased the version with sound.

"I...I am merely using my imagination," he replied with a faint sneer, "Or are you going to threaten to set _that_ on fire as well?"

Narcissa's eyes narrowed.

"Well, then," she said, somewhat primly, "I suppose that your _imagination_ can keep you company at dinner _too_!"

As she stormed out of the room, Lucius wanted to tell her to stop, to wait for him, that he was sorry, but then he felt the warm heat of the book behind his back pressing against him as though it were alive and he realized that as long as the Dark Lord was connected to his mind, it was probably best not to open up too many opportunities for the powerful wizard to take advantage.

So he pushed his wife and son away from himself and holed up in his study, only leaving it when he had business at the Ministry, which was his only blessed relief from the prying eyes of the Dark Lord, due to its myriad of detection and protection spells, which would put the diary at risk of discovery. While he was home, though, he took all of his meals in his study, delivered by Dobby. The poor house elf had been reprimanded harshly and made to swear not to tell Draco or Narcissa about what was happening when he had caught his master shouting at the diary one day when they'd been arguing about Potter. After swearing not to tell the mistress and little master, Dobby had ironed his ears while Lucius growled for him to stop harming himself and get back to cleaning the second floor.

Abraxas Malfoy had started the whole tradition of making the house elves punish themselves, and somehow, the behavior had stuck, regardless of what Lucius had done to try and break them of it. It bothered him, mostly because of the noise and the fact that a damaged house elf was a less useful house elf, but he wasn't _completely_ heartless. Truth be told, he hated the sounds they made when they were in pain. It was simply too barbaric for these enlightened times and Lucius prided himself in being the picture of sophistication. Having to watch torture of any sort, even if it was self inflicted, churned his stomach.

The Voldemort inside the diary was very interested in Harry Potter after Lucius had explained everything. It was actually a bit like having an older, more homicidal Draco around, asking all manner of questions like an eager, psychopathic puppy.

He sorely wished that he could put a muzzle on him, but if he said anything even hinting at critical, the young Dark Lord had no qualms punishing him with excruciating pain so intense that he often had to Scourgify his robes afterwards.

And to make it all worse, Dobby had seen that too.

Being caught in such an undignified state made Lucius so cross that he banished the terrified House Elf from the Manor for a day. Since Dobby couldn't be seen by muggles or tell anyone his secrets and absolutely hated being idle, Lucius knew that this was a terrible enough punishment to ensure the meddlesome creature would think twice before interrupting him again.

Later, when Dobby had appeared again, he had a faint sweet smell on his body, almost like cake frosting. He'd also begun punishing himself more than usual, though to Lucius Malfoy's eminent relief, the bug-eyed house elf deigned to disappear not long after he started one of his tirades against himself.

Sometimes Lucius wished that he could lock Dobby in his basement, but he knew that not only would it be pointless, but he did have a limit to his sense of cruelty, especially if it didn't benefit him in any way.

* * *

One of the best parts of being Slytherin was his way of gathering information without appearing to do so. And so it was in this manner that Lucius Malfoy learned of the flying car fiasco and the fact that Arthur Weasley was incredibly willing to tell anyone and everyone exactly when his family was planning on going to Diagon Alley.

Lucius knew it was time.

The next morning, he made a big show of grabbing a number of cursed objects that had not been seized by the Aurors to use as pretence for going to Diagon Alley and practically dragged an excitedly chattering Draco to the floo.

Narcissa was still cross with him, so she didn't show up to see them off, but Draco was delighted to find a small packet of Bernie Botts in his traveling cloak a mere five minutes later. This put Lucius in a rather foul mood indeed, especially when he reached into his traveling cloak and found it empty. It was the first time in years that Narcissa had neglected to leave a little packet of sweets for him, and he knew then that he was in real trouble.

 _Damn and double damn._

He was going to have to make it up to her in spades when he finally rid himself of that blasted book!

The Dark Lord slipped into his mind as though summoned by his thoughts, giving Lucius a terrible headache at the double vision he was forced to endure as the dark wizard commandeered his sight.

 _Come on, then. Let's find Potter! I'll possess him and then all will be forgiven._

Lucius liked the sound of being forgiven very, very much. He liked the sound of Voldemort being out of his head even better.

"Father? Are you feeling well?"

Draco looked up at him with large, concerned gray eyes. He knew better than to hug his father in public, but his hands were firmly grabbing at the tips of his traveling cloak as he suppressed the urge to do so.

"I am quite all right," Lucius said shortly, pinching the bridge of his nose to calm the nausea and vertigo that had risen in his belly. "But I think that I shall go mad if you keep going on about Potter this and Potter that! Good lord, boy, do you have a bloody crush on him or something?"

Draco shrank back, cringing with humiliation.

He had no idea that his father's ire was not limited to his own complaints about the so-called Boy-Who-Lived. Lucius silently vowed that he would be certain to make it up to his son later, even if he had to buy him an entire damn quidditch team. It was hard to think clearly with that infernal diary tucked up against his chest and Voldemort's whispers in his head.

It also hadn't helped that, in the fitful sleep he'd been able to manage, his dreams had always been of either the most intense pain he'd ever felt of the most exquisite pleasure he'd ever known with no middle ground.

He couldn't think clearly like this. He needed to find-

 _ **POTTER**_!

The screeching voice in his head was so loud that Lucius felt as though he had been physically struck and he had to grasp at a nearby lamp post to keep himself from collapsing onto the busy street.

A couple of wart-faced hags gave him snooty looks as he bowed his head and swallowed furiously to keep from vomiting.

He could hear Draco saying something in a frantic tone of voice, but his ears were full of a rushing roaring sound as his blood seemed shoot to his head all at once.

It took him a couple of minutes of breathing deeply before he managed to stand upright again, but Lucius was proud of himself for having kept his gag reflex from activating. Draco had gone silent at last and merely clung to his father's robes with one hand as he shot worried looks around at the rather unsavory characters that had appeared from the shadows like wolves circling a wounded lamb. They seemed rather disappointed when Lucius pulled out his wand and scowled at them menacingly.

 _I sensed his energy! But then it abruptly cut out. Lucius! Do something!_

Voldemort sounded almost petulant, which would have been humorous if it hadn't almost gotten them mugged. Or worse.

"Come, Draco," Lucius said with a sneer at the last rough-faced wizard, who melted away with a look of deepest loathing at being denied his prey, "We are expected at the shop."

Draco began chattering nervously, as he always did when he was uncomfortable, and they finally entered the dingy shop that lay partway down Knockturn Alley. Lucius wondered if he might be able to trick the Dark Lord into allowing him to show off the diary to the shopkeeper, but in the end, he'd been thwarted by a swift stab of pain that shot between his temples and made him cry out in agony.

Voldemort was growing stronger. Lucius gripped his left hand into a fist with frustration as his right grasped his wand and moved back and forth as though conducting from his side.

But it was not he who was doing it.

 _Oh Lucius, Lucius. Your wand is so much shorter than mine. Even your father's was longer. I guess that wand length really does not run in the family._ Heh heh heh.

Voldemort was whispering nastily in his ear, something that both annoyed Lucius and filled him with a sick sense of dread deep in his belly. For now that his body was not cooperating with him, he found himself redoubling his resolve to find a suitable replacement host soon.

 _Don't worry, Lucius. I won't eat your soul. After all you're far more useful to me alive. At least for now._

Voldemort laughed, his voice a distant echo of the high, clear voice he would one day use to command his army.

Lucius swallowed thickly and tried to focus on what his son was saying about the Quidditch World Cup, which was apparently only two years away. But he couldn't bring himself to talk about which teams were due to get into the finals as he was far too focused on the horrifying rhythm his wand was making against his thigh as Voldemort hummed a slow rendition of a Wizarding lullaby in time to it.

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was packed with idiots tripping over one another to get their books signed by Gilderoy Lockhart, and, had Lucius been able to control his feet, he would have gone right past without a second glance. After all, his superior Ministry contacts had secured him the second set of Lockhart's entire book series ever printed with a personal message from the author along with his signature. Lucius had done a couple of favors for the former Ravenclaw to make publishing his books a bit easier than it would otherwise be. The fact checking wizards had merely seen Lucius standing there and signed immediately. After all, if someone like Lucius Malfoy was willing to put his reputation on the line for an author who was already fairly well known for his adventures abroad, it was unlikely that there were any discrepancies.

And besides, who cared about discrepancies when they made such lucrative products?

Lucius had gotten himself a 5% royalty fee in perpetuity for helping Lockhart set up his book tour across Europe.

No one was better at quid pro quo than Lucius Malfoy.

No one.

When he tried to stride past the book shop, the Dark Lord had grasped his right hand against the outside bookshelf display before Lucius could steer his feet away from it.

 _He is in here! We must do it here! Now!_

Lucius wanted to accuse his master of being utterly mad. There were hundreds of witnesses inside, and it wasn't as though the famous Harry Potter was discreet in any way whatsoever.

 _You just have to be certain that my diary gets dropped into his cauldron. Surely you can manage that, stubby wand or no!_

Lucius was getting rather tired of having his wizardhood questioned so regularly, even though he knew it wasn't a good idea to say anything at all.

"Go on then, Draco, go find _your_ Potter," Lucius said, his voice goading his son with unsaid implications.

Draco gave his father a funny look as though realizing for the first time that something more than his father's usual irritation was affecting him. There was a tiny tickling sensation against his mind that made Lucius want to sneeze. And then, like that, Draco had broken his gaze and disappeared into the crowd.

 _Hmm, interesting._

Voldemort was obviously intrigued with Draco again, which made Lucius turn around and mutter under his breath about having to find Potter so he could do as he had been asked.

When Lucius saw the sea of red haired children, he knew he must be close, for wherever that Ron Weasley boy was, so too was Potter. But instead of finding the black-haired boy with the lighting-bolt shaped scar, he'd found Molly and her youngest child (at least, he thought it was her youngest child as he eyed her lumpy belly appraisingly, trying to ascertain as to whether she was growing yet another brat that she and her gormless husband could barely feed). His bad temper betrayed him and he ended up saying a number of nasty things that his tongue would normally have kept in check. And it hadn't helped that Arthur had come along and jumped into the fray like a wild weasel protecting his mate. All of it was far too much for Lucius. His instinct was to run, lick his wounds and then come up with a more subtle plan with less risk.

His errant arm had other ideas.

 _She likes him, she does. The girl has it bad for Potter, oh yes she does. Let's see if she fits my needs._

His wand twisted at his side in a motion that Lucius could feel but could not control and a small mark appeared next to Ginny's back momentarily before it faded. It seemed that no one else had seen.

 _She will be easy to bend to my superior will and what's more, she's got a heart full of power! I shall savor draining the blood traitor dry!_

Lucius shuddered as the sharp laughter filled his head once more and, at Voldemort's direction, dropped the book into her cauldron.

Immediately, his body relaxed and felt lighter than it had in weeks as the other, darker presence slid from his body almost as though it had never been there at all.

His Mark throbbed a bit painfully, a bit pleasurably, then went still again. He could almost feel the snake and skull fading into his skin and he breathed deeply with relief as he turned abruptly and grabbed his son, heading towards the exit with haste.

He turned only once before slipping out of the door of the bookshop. A cold high voice filled his head and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

 _Soon_ , the voice said, before it cut out altogether, _soon I shall return, and when I do, there will be nowhere that you can run to escape my reach. Remember that, Lucius, remember that you are mine forever._

In the pit of his stomach, Lucius knew that Voldemort was speaking the truth. He swore to himself that when the time came, he would do _anything_ to secure the safety of his family.

For there was no stopping a man who could not die.

It was only a matter of time.


End file.
